Long time no see, where have you been? These are a few of the questions that I have been asked lately. I usually answer that I have been here, but there is no set definition of my here. The middle of last year crashed for me. Many of you know that I lost my father on June 4th, 2008. Within weeks shortly thereafter my life began to collapse. There were no battery cables to hook up to for a reviving jump.
There is a paragraph in my first novel, Wait for Love: A Black Girl’s Story that details the characters feelings on grief. I had never experienced grief, and wrote it believing that her reactions were how someone would feel. The words were on point. Your mind wanders; your heart aches, and you continue to break down while hateful blood churns through your veins. Bluntly put, that shit hurts.
My 2008-2009 has been difficult. I lost my drive to write or to do anything productive for my personal gain. The post below mentions my daily routine. That particular routine came to an end in late June. That was it – I had enough. I will always miss my daddy, but grief can kiss my ass. I’m so sick of it handling me like I’m a foolish punk. It told me what to say, when to say it, and when to shut my mouth. It allowed me to tolerate behavior that is absolutely unacceptable in my professional, and personal life.
Why do people do you dirty? Why do people set out to do you dirty? Why do people think that you don’t know they did you dirty? Some of the things I put up with – please… This post is not written to belittle anyone or bring negativity to light. A few months ago I let it go. My life was tired of waiting on me. The inner turmoil that I caused myself was enough stress for three strokes. I thought my child would find me dead and there would be no one here for her.
We all suffer through something. As long as we have the ability to get THROUGH it, we can continue to prosper. Some of us don’t. Wallowing in misery and blaming everyone else was simply not it for me. My father died. I said it. I knew he was sick, I knew he was going to die, but I didn’t want him to. My father died. I said it again and I’m okay. I can still function on this earth. I can still be here and not feel guilty because he isn’t. I still love him.
Coming to grips with the fact that life will roll on whether you can hang or not was rough. I have struggled financially, mentally and physically. Making the wrong decisions, whew, that gets old. The past ten years have been a serious lesson. I was scored on a curve and barely passed. I’ll never say I may be black, I may be ugly – we love you Celie, but I’m still here. I’m SEXY, I’m talented, and I’m still here.
Sometimes when we make a purchase there is a small piece of paper inside of the item with an inspectors number on it. If there is a problem with the item you can exchange it or get your money back, but you may never meet the inspector. I was Inspected by God; you can’t exchange me and I‘m priceless. My inspector is available whenever I need Him.
I’ve been stretched to the limit and have returned better than before. I’m not refurbished, damaged or rebuilt. Just upgraded. The original version gets the job done; this version – keep breathing and you may understand. When you step out on faith, He takes all of your doubts, fears and mistakes. He will forgive you.
The SEXY One has been Inspected by God; are you ready?
Wanda D. Hudson
Wait for Love: A Black Girl's Story
LuvMe - Because Everybody Needs A Little Luv
Coming Soon - A Sheltered Life
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Succulent - Chocolate Flava 2
Purple Panties - An Eroticanoir.com Anthology